


Variations on a Death

by VividSunsets



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Gen, Heavy Angst, it doesn't stay in the second person that's just the description, this fic is literally all about the major character death please mind that tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21749821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividSunsets/pseuds/VividSunsets
Summary: Writing someone’s death three times over makes for a morbid fic, and more of a series of endings than a story.However, with a character like Eighth Brother, his death, thus far, is one of the most significant elements we have about his life, and unlike the majority of his life, we get to see most of his death happening onscreen. It’s a bit poetic, with him overusing his lightsaber’s flight capabilities, until he does it one too many times and it can’t carry him any longer.The Databank says he falls to his death, but we never really know what happens at the bottom of the Temple. Combined with the knowledge that there was a deleted scene where we got to see Eighth Brother getting hit by the Temple’s blast and subsequently frozen into a statue, I grew curious about what paths I could take if I focused on him while canon focused on the battle up above.
Kudos: 3





	1. The Fall

Backed to the Temple’s precipice, Eighth Brother evaluated his surroundings. Fifth Brother’s corpse lay in front of him, Seventh Sister was likely dead, and three Force users stared him down, at least one of whom was hellbent on killing him, and he suspected the other two wouldn’t lose sleep over it either. He was also sure that Jarrus had struck his lightsaber, but he couldn’t check the damage he’d taken, not with his attackers trained on him.

In sync, the three readied themselves for attack, and Eighth Brother dodged as Jarrus swung at him. 

He couldn’t win this. It would likely cost him the Grand Inquisitor position, but he couldn’t fulfill it if he was dead. Lord Vader would arrive soon, and the two of them could defeat their enemies. He would face the consequences afterward, but hopefully, he would live.

Achieving liftoff was shamefully easy, but as he ignited his lightsaber, he felt it scorch in his hand and break apart, and though it burned, he still clung to it and desperately grasped at the pieces as he

fell,

(realizing his mortality)

fell, 

(screaming for unpitying ears)

fell. 

The air whistled past him, and he felt the laws of physics overtake his body, flipping once, then twice, and he desperately reached out with the Force to stop himself, but it was too late.

His neck snapped cleanly, body hitting the ground, and finally settling. His arm and leg were unnaturally bent, head lolling, helmet cast off upon impact, and his lifeless eyes stared up at a fight that was far beyond him.


	2. Stillness

Eighth Brother’s senses warned him of the danger when he woke.

Danger, for the most part, was familiar to him. After all, Lord Vader had taught him many lessons, and the rule went that the inquisitors couldn’t get caught killing each other outside of formal practice, so he learned to sleep with one eye open.

This was far more primordial.

He hadn’t survived this long through stupidity. He knew when to run, and to his credit, he tried, and immediately fell back down and recoiled in pain. One of his ribs was broken, but thankfully, his species took falls well, he had the Force, and most of all, no injury short of death could stop him. After a second attempt, he set his teeth and got up, using his torso as little as possible. He made a valiant few steps toward where he remembered setting down his TIE fighter, when he was knocked down by a blinding blast from the obelisk. 

Anger and fear overtook him---the need to escape pulsed through him, and so he pushed through the pain and made it to his knees. 

Then, he felt it. 

A lack of sensation crept up his calves and thighs, and with paralyzing horror, he remembered the statues strewn across the Temple. He tried to move, but his lower half was locked into place, confirming his dread.

Screaming was futile, yet cathartic. He felt the sensation creep toward his abdomen, and his cries stopped as it reached the base of his lungs.

Somewhere around the base of his head, he lost thought. 

If he could think after that point, he’d likely be thankful that he couldn’t feel his eyes turn to stone.


	3. Shadow

The Force immobilized Eighth Brother, and he struggled, but Maul’s viselike grip held as he advanced. Eighth Brother couldn't channel his anger into something productive, so instead, he stood helplessly, watching his adversary approach him.

"No," he groaned weakly, with no force behind it.

"Yes," Maul responded, soft spoken.

He looked into Maul’s eyes, and they didn't even hold contempt. He hadn’t earned it. This was routine for an assassin—they both knew this—and the true weight of Eighth Brother's insignificance bore down on him.

"I'll grant you something your Masters would not," Maul said, removing his lightsaber from his belt. 

Eighth Brother’s hand fruitlessly strained toward the bomblets on his bandolier, desperate for any weapon, even as inelegant as this.

Maul's face nearly touched his helmet, and the gesture was far too intimate for any of this, for the apathy he held.

"Mercy."

Maul’s blade ignited and burned through him, and for a long moment, the two stood there, lit only by its red glow. Then, the blade retracted, and his organs began to fail. His arms went limp, and as Maul stepped back, Eighth Brother fell to his knees, and then into blackness as Maul walked away.


End file.
